Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

poem-through June 21, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:21 pm
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I’m through

with being split in two

three

four.

No more trying to be

too many of me.

Finally,

the best is there is to shine,

when troubled is the rare and not the rule,

where expecting excellence

is rewarded,

not met with whines.

Once, I’d have wept to leave this team,

but now it seems we’ve seen the best

and sweeping up the mess

is all that’s left.

It makes it easier to say good bye

When a dream is dangled before your eyes,

and so you reach, because like me,

sometimes you’re surprised by victory.

Now I can be

just one me,

doing what’s my specialty.

 

 

poem-reality

Eventually

Reality has to intervene.

You’re not destined for the NHL

Or the corps de ballet

Your voice will not sell

A million records.

Simon sends you packing.

 

Reality can suck.

But if playing hockey

Brings you happiness

Why stop just because you’ll never hoist the Stanley Cup?

Dance like nobody’s watching

Sing until you’re smiling.

 

Don’t let reality rob you of the joy

Of the activity itself.

The rush of a beautiful pass and goal.

The beauty of a perfectly formed pirouette.

The harmony than hums in your ear.

Celebrate those moments for ten thousand hours.

 

They say ten thousand hours yields excellence.

Perhaps you’ll need twenty.

Or thirty.

Embrace the joy.

Share in a community of like minds.

Perhaps after forty thousand hours

Your reality will change

And if it doesn’t,

At least you’ll nurture your soul.

Like reality,

Success has many faces.

 

poem-momentary June 14, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:28 am
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I’m walking away from this rain

The painful splashes digging out the flowerbeds

splattering on my head.

I’m walking away.

I’m walking toward the glow

The sun shining joy of divining

possibility.  Live ’til you’re dead

I know you know time folds

when old friends meet.

I’m walking toward the momentary

treat of seeing you.

Dreams in mind, I’m walking ahead.

 

poem- wonder June 13, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:32 am
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There is power in wonder

in gratitude

for the miracles of everyday.

There is power in wondering

in curiosity

for what could be.

There is power in what we say

There is power in wonder.

 

poem-storm June 8, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:56 pm
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Another storm warning.

Cotton clouds turn into coal smoke,

Flashes splice the sky.

We’re drenched by pelting rain,

until it blows by again.

Wouldn’t it be nice

if the newscaster flashed

storm warnings

about flashes of temper

and drenching tears,

so we knew to stay indoors

or prepare our rain gear?

 

poem- I want to know June 6, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:22 pm
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What I want to know

is what the magical ingredient is.

What’s that essential something

that makes this kid go “WOW!”?

Not just this kid, but that kid, too.

You know how some will not be moved,

never seem to find their groove?

I want the magical ingredient for them all,

so when they’re pushed from their nests

they don’t fall, they aim for the skies with eyes

open to opportunity, head full of curiosity.

Every time I think I know the secret

I see another one sneaking by,

not willing to try or

afraid

to try?

What’s broken their curiosity?

Taught them to close out possibility?

It hurts me.

I want to know if that kid

is going to move to his groove later.

Will he save his curiosity to ride a wave

at twenty instead?

I want to see it now,

but late is better than never.

I hope when it happens,

I’ll know.

 

 

 

Poem-Weed June 4, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:19 am
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What’s the difference

between a weed and a flower?

It’s an old one

and a new one.

A blue bell, dandelion yellow one.

A weed

is flower seeding in an inconvenient place.

It just takes its space to put down roots.

It stretches its sights to the sky.

A weed has petals for joy,

nectar for bees,

and pollen for sneezes.

A weed is a flower in an inconvenient place,

Weed is just a label.

It doesn’t alter the beauty, the scent, or the colour.

Flower is just a snooty torment of summer name games.

Let the flowers be free!

Let their promise fly like weeds on the breeze!

Let’s be free of our labels,

be enabled

to bloom through the gloom.

What’s the difference between a weed and a flower?

Perspective.

Indeed.

.

.

(With thanks to Sheri D Wilson who asked the question, and Blu Hopkins who offered an old line)

 

poem- Misty’s shoes June 3, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:11 pm
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Misty’s shoes

attended graduation,

tramping up and down the stairs,

standing at the podium as

name after name was read

each biography

each list of scholarships.

Dancing  for young people,

leaping off into the unknown.

Misty’s shoes were there,

celebrating a roomful of potential

that Misty will never know.

.

.

.

A few years ago on eBay I purchased a pair of stunning black and white spectator pumps (Listen Up Harlow by John Fluevog).  While corresponding with the seller, I was told that they were her deceased sister’s shoes.  Misty had passed away from cystic fibrosis.  I was touched by the story, and wrote a character named after her into the novel I was writing at the time.  Misty loved shoes and dancing and her passions fueled her story line in Grace Awakening Myth.   (GA Myth is still in editing and revisions. Not sure that sub-plot will make the cut, actually).  Thinking about Misty while wearing her shoes at my school’s grad this week, I remembered young people I knew who passed away far too young.

 

poem-passing through June 1, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:32 pm
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It’s passing through time

moving on time

gotta go time.

It’s we’re through here

all done here

wrapping up here.

It’s wear the gown time;

cross the stage time;

toss the cap time;

No more waiting!

Celebrating

Graduating.

 

 

 

poem- valley May 31, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:33 pm
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Valley green like velvet in the morning light

waves rippling, sun twinkling;

sun stars captured on water,

dazzling.

Everywhere are lush reminders

of blessing

rising with the water,

over-flowing with the creeks,

sliding with the mud.

Blessings and curses.

It could be worse.

It could be worse

than being trapped in paradise.